


Silver Wire

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, One Shot, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request: "Request: Reader is saved from a ___ by Dean. Dean is kinda rude and all like "That was so stupid of you" etc. Sam consoles reader, explains Dean is just tightly wound at the moment for whatever reason. Reader tags along on next hunt cause it's still in their town, one of the boys (dun care who) saves reader, confesses they're crushing on reader, then they leave town (cause Winchesters). I hope that's not too much! Haha. (I'm such a pest, ily. I thought it up on the spot and GUH)" One shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Wire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [croatoan-the-line.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=croatoan-the-line.tumblr.com).



> I had a LOT of fun writing this one!

Check out my new [writing blog](http://kissdean.tumblr.com/)!

 

 

 

 

"Shit."

It wasn't often you hear Sam swear. Cusses are usually saved for the most dire situations. And the fact that he'd just spat one out had your stomach dropping.

Dean stood up from his crouch abruptly. Slender silver wires threaded half-way across the alley way. More hung from a spool in the older Winchester's hands.

The plan had been to set silver-wire booby-traps all through the town's less traversed areas. Signs of werewolf activity had been most rampant and recent in the abandoned warehouses and decrepit alley ways. Just last night there'd been another kill.

The activity was escalating.

Being fairly green to the world of hunting, you'd called up Bobby for help. Your stake-outs and all-nighters had only earned you dark circles and irritation. The elder hunter had given you the number of the Winchester boys. They'd only been a state over and, with some persuading from Bobby, had made the drive.

Of course, things really hadn't gone as planned.

You'd shared all of your research with them. Sam had listened kindly; eyes wide and soft as he nodded. Dean had squinted at your files and paperwork, making a noise when he'd flipped through your journal.

It'd been clear, after that first day with the two of them, that they were far more experienced than you. Dean had been quick to correct nearly everything you'd written down in your journal. Sam was infinitely more patient. He'd pulled out their own journal, handed down from their father, and let you jot down the meat of its contents. Dean had been less than pleased with that. Then, they'd begun quizzing you.

What killed werewolves? How did you down a vamp without killing it? How did you kill a vamp? Where did wendigos reside? How did you kill them?

On and on it went. Dean flung questions out rapid-fire. His brows drawn down and arms crossed over his chest. Sam spoke slowly, like a teacher used to puzzled, ignorant children. He gave you time to ponder and answer whereas Dean would steamroll right over you if the answer wasn't on the tip of your tongue.

The day had wore on and Dean had been chomping at the bit to get out and hunt.

Despite your witnessing to minimal activity over the past three nights, Dean had been confident that between he and Sam, the werewolf wouldn't be a problem anymore.

At sunset, you'd found a fresh kill. The body was half-eaten, heart missing from the chest. Your nose had wrinkled in disgust and you'd raised your hand to cover your mouth. Dean had shaken his head at you with a tired chuckle. His amusement soon vanished as he studied the body and the scene.

Dean swore often. Without restraint or care. Apparently, this hadn't been the work of just one werewolf. There'd been at least two, maybe even three. Sam had pointed out the different sizes in footprints to you.

After disposing of the body, the three of you had rallied back at the motel.

It was there that you'd come up with the idea for traps. Sam had been on-board quickly. There was a minimal chance of anything but the werewolves happening upon the traps. Which, in the end, meant a lesser chance of more casualties and possible discovery. The police were already crawling over the town in their cruisers at night. It'd been hell trying to hunt and stay hidden from those damned floodlights. Dean had eventually agreed, seeming reluctant to do so.

And so, there you were; crouched in the middle of an alley with the Winchesters as the three of you wound silver wire through the space.

At least, until Sam had alerted you and Dean to trouble.

Dean shoved the spool of wire in his jacket pocket and pulled his gun from the waist of his jeans. Something growled menacingly in the mouth of the alley. Sam stepped back, boots crunching over tar and bits of old broken glass until he was situated in front of you and beside Dean.

Shadows skulked into the dim light of the shattered streetlight.

Two werewolves; their shirt-fronts bloodied and flecked with what could only be...Ugh, God. You did not want to name it. But it was obviously people-bits. Your stomach flipped. Dean's gun clicked quietly. Sam reached back for his.

The werewolves snarled, lips peeling back to display yellowed fangs that dripped with reddened saliva.

It was a Mexican stand-off.

There were three of you and only two of them. All the same, it was close quarters and only Dean had his gun at the ready.

Something scuffled behind the three of you.

Your mind whirled as it played out all the different possibilities of how the fight could play out. As soon as Dean turned to have your's and Sam's backs, the werewolves were going to attack. You could see it in the way their muscles tensed.

All you had was a silver knife. Dean hadn't been willing to grant you a gun when _'they barely even knew you were out of diapers'_. Of course, it'd only serve to bite the three of you in the ass.

 _Think, think, think_.

Silver glinted across the tar. _The wire_ -

Dean turned, arms coming up to point his gun at whatever was behind you. Sam pulled his own from his waistband. The werewolves moved forward. You jammed your hand into Dean's pocket and yanked the wire free.

The slender silver thread was still attached to the other traps in the alley. The stuff twanged softly as you ducked beneath one clawed hand and jerked the wire around a blood-spattered thigh.

Your knees and palms ground painfully into the tar. Something caught at your hair before you rolled away and lashed more wire around another set of reddened calves. There was a single moment when it all seemed to stand still.

The werewolves snarled and growled.

Claws reached for Sam's outstretched arms and your body curled on the ground.

Dean fired at the werewolf that'd crept up the alley. It scurried off into the darkness as the shot cracked loudly.

The wire suddenly yanked tight.

The werewolves went down.

Pain lashed out as the wires tangled around your arms and wrists. The thrashing of the werewolves only made them tighten and dig into your skin. Blood beaded.

One werewolf seized its opportunity to hurl its trussed-up body toward your's. Teeth snapped dangerously close to your fingertips. Saliva dripped onto your arm and side. Hot breath gusted over your rib cage as it wriggled closer.

You were stuck, tied up in the wire as it got closer...Closer. A gunshot cracked so close by, your ears rang.

The werewolf slumped over your waist, face returning to its humanoid shape as its weight pinned you to the tar.

"Y/N, hey!"

The werewolf was pushed aside and hands were tugging at the tangled wires around your arms.

"Y/N." Dean's low voice rumbled by your ear as the silver wires came away wet with blood.

You bit your lip hard, stifling whimpers as he untangled you.

"I-I'm okay." You swallowed back a cry when Dean loosened a particularly tightly wound section of wire. "Sam?"

"He's fine, Y/N. Coulda been a lot worse off if that stupid trick of your's went wrong."

Your head snapped back a little at the dark, sharp tone of Dean's voice.

"Stupid?" You echoed.

Green eyes flicked up once. He began coiling up the bloody wire.

"Yeah. That was a damn stupid idea, Y/N. What were you thinking, trussing yourself up like that? Did you _want_ to become kibble?"

You pressed your hand over one of the worst slices in your skin and tried to stop the flow of blood.

"I didn't mean to get all tangled up-"

"But you did. And Sam nearly tripped over one of those bastards when they came down. Almost got bit, damn it. And you. You were stuck there, wrapped up like a fuckin' Christmas present."

His words hurt more than the cuts.

You knew Dean didn't think highly of you. His every action upon his arrival here had been more than enough to let you know. But this...Slamming you even after you'd just saved his ass and his brother's? That was an all-new kind of level of asshole.

You gritted your teeth and stood. A bit of wire was wrapped around your boot. You kicked it off with a huff.

"You know what? I'll admit it. I didn't think it all through. I was too damn busy trying to save your's and Sam's asses. So I'm sorry if you aren't the hero, here, Dean. Next time, I'll let you think of a better way to down two werewolves on the fly."

You held your wounded arm against your side tightly and began to stalk off.

"Hey! Y/N, where're you going?" Dean started after you, boots scuffing.

"Back to the motel. Obviously, I'm more of a hindrance than a help."

With that, you slumped in the driver's seat of your car and headed back to the musty room where you bunked.

 

 

None of the cuts looked like they'd need stitches.

For that, you were thankful. That was one thing that always made your stomach turn. The few times you'd had to stitch yourself up were not in your finest-moments-memory-bank. It'd taken more alcohol to steady your nerves than to clean the wounds.

This time, the cuts and slices were shallow. You settled for swiping them with an alcohol pad and slapping some bandage tape and gauze over the worst ones.

The rest received band-aids. By the time you'd finished, the clock read two in the morning.

A washcloth removed the last of the blood on your skin before you changed into some clean clothes and sat yourself up against the headboard of the bed. With your journal in one hand and a pen in the other, you began noting the night's events for future reference.

Sometime in between jotting down the effectiveness of silver wire traps and the hazards, the familiar rumble of the Winchester's car sounded outside. You gritted your teeth and braced yourself for another round with Dean.

He didn't seem like the type to miss having the last word.

Keys clicked in the lock and the door swung wide. Sam shuffled in, broad shoulders practically filling out the door.

There were a few streaks of blood over his jaw and his hair was a little disheveled. Dean was right behind him. The older Winchester's eyes were downcast, jaw set in hard lines. His brows were drawn tight, a crease forming between them.

Tension radiated off the two of them.

Dean dropped his jacket in a chair, grabbed up the first-aid kit and disappeared into the bathroom. The door slammed with a loud bang.

Sam sighed heavily and stood in the center of the room for a moment. Then, his head lifted and he gave you a worried, weary smile.

"How you doing? Dean said you got pretty cut up-"

"It's nothing." You flipped to a fresh page and began writing again.

"Y/N, what you did back there-"

"Dean already told me. I won't do it again. Okay? The hunt's over. I'll be out of your hair in the morning." You mumbled the words as you finished your entry.

"Actually...It's not."

You glanced up, frowning.

"What?"

Sam looked chagrined.

"I tried to track the werewolf that got away down. I wasn't able to. It's out there...somewhere."

 _Fabulous_. That meant you were stuck with Dean for another day at least. _Perfect_.

Sam must have read the intense displeasure on your face. His mouth dipped in a frown as his eyes softened. He sat on the edge of your bed.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight dramatically, causing you to slide forward an inch or two. Hazel eyes blinked slowly as if he was trying to piece together the right words.

"Y/N, what you did with the wires...That was-"

"Stupid. Yeah, yeah. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some shut-eye. I already heard it from Dean. I don't need to hear it from you, too, Sam."

You rolled, yanking up the corners of the covers. Sam caught at your shoulder gently.

Goddammit, no grown man should have been able to so closely resemble a scolded puppy.

"Y/N, that's not what I was going to say. I mean, yeah, it was a little reckless-"

You rolled your eyes and tugged at the blankets again.

"But, it saved us from a nasty fight not all of us would have walked away from. You were quick on your feet. You kept calm and you, well, you saved our asses. I'd call that a win. You'll make a good hunter one day, Y/N."

The warm words of praise were the last thing you'd been expecting. You blinked quickly.

"But Dean said-"

"Dean can be stifling sometimes. He just doesn't want anyone to get hurt. He's not always a hard-ass."

You smiled a little.

"Well, I guess you'd know."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Sam laughed a little. "Listen, he's just trying to do right. I don't think he's ever been around anyone as green as you in a long, long time. He just wants to see you actually make it to hunter greatness..."

You shook your head.

"Sam, okay. I get it. I'll cut him a break, okay?"

Sam gave you a lopsided grin that made your heart melt inside your chest. He knocked his knuckles against your elbow.

"Thanks, Y/N. I'll let you sleep, now."

You'd thought it was going to be hard drifting off with so much testosterone and pent up tension in the room. You'd been wrong.

Within ten minutes, you'd been out like a light.

 

 

You woke to a hand gently shaking you shoulder.

"Hey, Y/N, wake up. Police scanner's full of chatter." Dean's voice was surprisingly quiet and soft.

You rolled, hissing as the bandage tape rubbed against your cuts. Your hair stuck to your lips and a few pieces fell into your eyes. A careless flip of your wrist cleared them away. You cleared your throat as you swiped the sleep from your eyes.

"Wha' kind of chatter?"

"They found another body. Heart missing...A good deal of the guts, too."

"Ew," You groaned. "I do not need to hear about missing innards this early in the morning, Dean."

The older Winchester laughed; it was a pleasing, low noise.

"Get used to it, you'll be doing a lot more than hearing about that sort of stuff in this life."

"No, shit. Thought it'd all be daisies and frilly skirts."

You kicked the blankets back before rising. Your spine cracked when you stretched.

Dean gave you an odd look, brows furrowing and eyelids fluttering before he glanced away sharply.

"Funny."

You shrugged.

"I'm gonna grab a shower and then...whatever. Where's Sam?"

You'd finally figured out the source of the awkward tension in the room.

Without Sam there to act as a buffer between the two of you, you and Dean were flitting around each other like boxers in a ring. After a while, one of the two of you was going to get tired, though. You hoped Sam got back before punches started being thrown.

"With the fuzz," Dean answered, kicking his feet up on the edge of the free chair and sipping at a cup of coffee.

"Hm," You murmured. "Well. Shower. Then whatever."

Dean nodded, fingers flipping through his leather-bound journal.

 

 

Sam had returned just after you'd emerged from the shower.

He'd loosened his tie and thrown his suit jacket over the back of a chair. With a quiet huff, he'd sat at the tiny table by Dean. Their laptop whirred as Sam began pecking at the keys.

"So, what'd the cops have to say?" You asked as you pushed your hair out of your face.

The minuscule coffee maker in the corner puttered and hissed. Hotel coffee wasn't the best, but it was all you had. And your brain was still a little fuzzy from sleep.

"They've got wildlife management coming in tomorrow to set up some traps and check out the park." Sam shook his head.

"Only two attacks happened in the park," You muttered into your coffee cup.

Dean shrugged and resumed cleaning his gun.

"Civilians aren't really too quick to put stuff together, Y/N. We know 'cause we're in the life."

You grudgingly ducked your head.

"Point taken."

Sam's eyes flicked between you and Dean before he returned to his laptop.

Silence reigned, broken only by the noises of Sam's fingers on the keyboard, the crackle of the police radio, and the quiet sounds of Dean's weapons check. You sipped your coffee as you poured over a map of the town.

There was _something_...

With a ballpoint pen from the nightstand, you began circling the locations of the kills.

"Well, I'll be damned." You muttered.

"What?" Sam asked, glancing up from the laptop screen.

You rose, smoothing the map over the table before them.

"All the kills have one thing in common. I should have noticed it before." You jabbed the pen at the border of circles. "They surround this."

"What is that? A warehouse?"

You shook your head.

"An apartment complex. I think this is where our werewolf lives."

 

 

The plan was set in motion that night.

The hunt needed to be wrapped up and quickly at that. The town was already crawling with cops and with the arrival of wildlife management in the morning, things were only going to get more crowded.

A block from the apartment complex, Dean pulled the Impala into a parking space. The park was down the street. Trees stood out against the night sky, leaves bristling in the cool air. Streetlights lined the edges of the road and the fringes of the park.

Dean carried a small cooler gingerly in his hands. Disgust was written all over his face as he held the thing away from his body.

"Sam, this has got to be your grossest idea ever."

You smiled a little. Sam had gotten a hold of a heart from the morgue that afternoon. How, you really hadn't wanted to ask. But it would reel in the werewolf easier than trying to track it down, that was for sure.

And so the three of you crept into the part, Dean cracking open the cooler ever now and again to let some of the congealing blood leak out onto the grass. You wound silver wire low across the ground in the area that had been specified. The stuff glinted in the dim light from Sam's flashlight.

After the last wire had been tied off, you rose and wiped your hands on your jeans.

"Okay, Dean, dump the heart right there. Y/N, you good to climb that tree?" Sam pointed at a sturdy-looking oak.

"Yeah, sure."

"Great. Dean, you take that one-"

"No way, man. I'm staying on the ground. You climb the damn tree." Dean spun a silencer onto his gun and tucked the thing back into his waistband.

"Fine. You keep watch on the trap, then." Sam huffed loudly as he hoisted himself up into the tree's lower branches.

You took a running start and swung up to wrap your legs around a limb. Shimmying up the tree, your hair and jacket snagged on a few rougher pieces of bark and twigs. Sharp, small branches poked at your skin. You ignored them and settled against the trunk about ten feet up.

Dean wandered over to the base of Sam's tree and scooped up a stray pine-cone. He chucked the thing at the large shadow of his brother. Sam hissed at Dean.

Dean laughed quietly before beginning his first circuit around the area.

Minutes ticked by.

A half-hour passed.

Your thighs were beginning to burn from their crouched position. Your fingers were cramping from holding onto the tree branch so hard. Then, just as Dean disappeared from view again, something rustled in the bushes by the edges of the trap.

Your head whipped up.

A large shadow emerged beneath Sam's tree. Eyes reflected for the briefest moment before it launched itself at Sam's hiding place. The branch beneath you shook violently, causing you to nearly fall.

There was a muffled popping noise and then a growl. Something sharp slashed at your legs, cutting through the material of the jeans you wore and nicking skin.

A set of yellow eyes peered up at you from the ground. The werewolf was female, long hair tangled and mouth reddened with blood. Sharp, jagged teeth were bared in a snarl. Her legs tensed to jump again.

You pulled your gun from your belt and squeezed off a round.

The silver bullet missed its target as the werewolf leapt up. Claws buried deep in your calf. Skin shredded as muscle ripped. You cried out, dropping the gun to get a better grip on the branch.

It was no use, though.

The weight and strength of the werewolf was too much for you. The two of you crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

There was a whimper from Sam's tree. A werewolf dropped from the branches, seemingly dazed when its head hit the ground.

You jerked yourself to your feet, leg nearly giving out beneath your weight.

"Hey, _hey_!" You shouted, waving at the rising werewolves.

You just needed to lead them to the trap, that was all. You could get there.

The werewolves snarled, moving toward you. Sam was suspiciously silent in his tree.

Your stomach roiled with worry even as you began to run for the trap. Your wounded leg hindered your progress. It gave on some steps, blood leaking through your pants. Claws lashed at your hair and back as they snatched at you.

Close.

Closer.

Almost there!

Wire snapped around one werewolf, sending it crashing to the ground. There was a snarl as the other fell. Leaves crunched and dirt flew as the pair of them fought to get free.

Something heavy smashed into your back.

Hot, putrid breath fanned over your face. A string of saliva dripped onto your throat as teeth descended. You recoiled, eyes squeezing shut as you prepared to be ripped to shreds. There was a popping noise and then the werewolf slumped over you; hot blood seeping through your clothes.

There came another two pops and then hands were shoving the dead body off your's.

You gasped in a deep breath and tried to sit up; crying out at the pain in your leg. The leg of your jeans was destroyed. Skin was shredded, bone peeking through muscles. Bile rose before you jerked your gaze away.

"Hey, hey, Y/N," Dean's low voice tugged your attention away from the wound and to him.

Scratches marked one of his cheeks, parallel lines of red leaking down his jaw.

"Hey, you with me?"

"F-fine. Sam?" You looked around.

Even that simple movement had your head spinning.

"I'm here." Sam was rubbing at his head as he dragged the bodies of the werewolves toward one another and began dousing them with gasoline.

"Oh." You managed before beginning to slump over.

"Whooa," Dean caught your arms and settled you against the trunk of a tree. "Easy."

You swallowed thickly.

"Help Sam. Don't worry about me. 'M fine."

"Y/N, your leg looks like hamburger."

You stifled a gag and groaned.

"Just go help Sam, Dean. I'll be fine." You shifted, hissing at the pain. "'S not like I'm gonna go anywhere."

"Okay." Dean reluctantly shuffled off to Sam's side.

The two of them made quick work of the bodies. As soon as the fire had caught and they were satisfied, they collected the wires and any evidence.

Sam crouched at your side and gently eased his hands beneath your back and knees. You had to bite down on the collar of your jacket to smother your cry when he lifted you. Shaky breaths in and out of your nose helped keep your head straight. Your finger twisted in Sam's shirt; knuckles gone white.

"Y/N, you think you can make it out of town for the hospital? It'll raise too many questions if we go to the one here." Sam's words were hushed as the three of you neared the Impala.

"You can't stitch it up?" You whimpered. Hospitals freaked you out.

The last thing you wanted to do was hang out in one after all of that. Sam gave you an odd look.

"Hamburger, Y/N," Dean shook his head as he retrieved his keys.

"That's so gross." You groaned. "Stop. Seriously. Or I will puke."

Dean pulled a tarp from the trunk and draped it over the Impala's back seat. Sam bent nearly in half as he settled you in. This time, you couldn't hold back the cry of pain when your leg was jarred. Sam winced and apologized profusely. Dean peeked around his brother's shoulder, brow furrowed and corners of his mouth dipping down.

After assurance that you were fine, they clambered into the front. The rumble of the Impala's engine beneath your head lulled you. Little bumps and potholes in the road had you occasionally wincing or hissing.

Half-an-hour in, you started to shiver.

Your skin pricked with cold and your head felt light and fuzzy. You were tired, just wanting some sleep. It couldn't hurt to close your eyes for a while, right?

 

 

Something was beeping.

Steady, monotonous. It droned by your head. Your limbs felt heavy, your leg especially. Your eyes fluttered open, lashes sticking together. You lifted your hand to rub the sleep away.

Something tugged at your hand. White tape, plastic tubing, silvery needle...Hospital.

You shuddered a little, breath becoming a little choppier. Pale walls were dappled with sunlight from a window in the corner. A green blanket was draped over your legs and torso. Machines regulated you heartbeat, wires snaking from the arms and neck of your hospital gown.

You braced your arms on the mattress and pushed. Mild pain had you gasping as your leg shifted. Movement sounded from your left.

"Y/N?" You glanced up from trying to sit straight.

Dean was sitting up, rubbing his hand over his face.

There were faint lines beneath his eyes. His light hair stuck up in odd spikes in some places. His t-shirt was creased and wrinkled in some places. You frowned, shooting a glance at the clock on the wall.

"Dean?"

The older Winchester gave you a lopsided smile.

"The one and only."

You tried to sit up again, mewling in frustration and pain when your leg protested.

Dean rose from his chair, hands settling at your hips. With an easy movement, he shifted you against the pillows.

"Better?"

You felt heat rising up in your cheeks. He must've really been unimpressed with you now. You couldn't even move your leg without whining. Some great hunter you were.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay? It doesn't hurt that bad, does it? The nurses said you might want meds when you wake up-" Dean sounded... _Concerned_.

And that had your brow crinkling. It made no sense. All he'd done since meeting you was rag on your lack of experience, intelligence, strength. He'd gone out of his way to let you know that you weren't a true hunter. And now, he had the audacity to act like a concerned brother.

The swing gave you whiplash.

It was all you could do to just stare at him dumbly. Dean fidgeted beneath your gaze. It could have been the sunlight, but you swore the tops of his cheeks turned pink.

"What?" He finally asked, gruffly.

You squinted at him.

"Your mood swings are giving me whiplash." Whoa. Where had your verbal filter gone?

Dean looked guilty abruptly. He glanced down, fingers clenching at his sides. His knuckles went white before he relaxed his hands. His shoulders drew into a taught line.

"Don't worry," Sam's voice had the two of you jumping.

The younger Winchester was leaned against the door-frame, two cups of coffee in hand. His shirt looked to be in better condition than Dean's, but only by a small margin. There was a hole in the knee of one legs of his jeans.

He strode into the room almost nonchalantly, handing Dean one of the coffees. Dean cradled the Styrofoam cup in his large hands, fingers folding neatly.

"He's like that with everyone he likes," Sam finished.

"Dude!" Dean barked, brows knitting in a glare.

You laughed, shaking your head.

"Yeah, right. Okay."

Sam took in your doubtful tone and disbelieving frown before shooting a glance at his brother. His hazel eyes flicked between the two of you twice more before he ducked his head.

"I'm gonna go get the car ready, then." Sam walked over and shook your hand.

You tugged him down for a hug instead, meds having loosened more than your tongue, apparently.

"See you around, Y/N. It was good working with you."

That made you laugh.

"C'mon, Sam. Don't flatter me. I was a hot mess. You'll be better off without me tagging along."

A tiny smile bared dimples as Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, well, we're all kinda bad when we first start out. Don't feel too awful. You finished out the case, that's what counts. You've got the mind for it. With some more experience, you'll be a pro."

The words made your eyes sting a little. You shrugged your shoulders and dipped your head to hide your blush.

"Thanks, Sam. You're not so bad, yourself."

"Thanks, Y/N. See ya." With that, Sam disappeared out the door.

The disappearance of his tall, lanky frame left the room feeling just a bit more empty.

Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. You crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your chin up.

"So, I guess this is good-bye, huh?"

Dean's shoulders lifted slightly.

"Yeah. Me and Sammy got a call from Bobby about a 'shifter case in Milwaukee."

"Oh. Well. Good luck I guess."

There was a moment in which the silence of the room was filled with tense awkwardness.

Then, Dean made a face and shook his head.

"Listen, I'm sorry I came off as an ass, Y/N. I don't mean to be. It's just...Green hunters are pretty messy to work with. People get hurt or worse. I agreed to come help because Bobby and Sam wanted me to. Frankly, I didn't want anything to do with you."

You snorted.

"Thanks."

"Shut up." Dean grunted. "I'm not done."

You arched a brow and waited.

"But, you know, I expected a lot worse from you. You're a lot smarter than I first thought. You...You saved mine and Sam's ass in that alley. You helped us finish up the hunt. You're still pretty green, but...You know, with that big brain o' your's and stuff, I think...I think you'll be an okay hunter some day."

Your insides flipped a little.

"Aw, thanks, Dean. You're giving me all the warm-and-fuzzies."

Had he just blushed? Green eyes flicked up to your's and he abruptly looked so young, even shy. Freckles stood out against his cheeks and nose. The little flecks from sunlight only enhanced his handsomeness.

"I'm actually kinda sorry we have to go so soon." His words were hushed, admitted in a husky tone that sent shivers skittering up your spine.

"Thought you would have been ecstatic to have me outta your hair." You joked, voice gone a little breathy.

Dean's lips lifted crookedly.

"Yeah, well. I thought that, too. But I guess I was wrong. 'Bout a lot of stuff, too." His shoulders lifted again. "Anyway. I guess...I'll miss you."

"Like a toothache," You teased, reaching out to flick his arm.

The hunter shook his head, fighting a smile. He fished around in his jacket pocket before pulling out a wrinkled card.

He pressed the paper into your palm and wrapped your fingers around it. You blinked up at him, watching the way his pupils contracted and expanded within the ring of green. He swallowed and bent in close. Warm breath fanned over your cheeks as your eyes fluttered shut. His lips pressed to the top of your head before he drew away.

"You need anything, ever, you call those numbers." Dean gave you a lopsided smile and tugged a lock of your hair lightly. "Promise?"

You swallowed thickly.

"Promise."

His chest expanded with a deep breath before he straightened and walked toward the door. He turned, one foot across the threshold.

"See you, Y/N."

You lifted your hand and gave him a small smile.

"Bye, Dean."

And just like that, just as quickly as the Winchesters had blown into your life, they were gone.


End file.
